


Delirium Tremens

by castielanderson



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2012-08-28
Packaged: 2017-11-13 02:18:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielanderson/pseuds/castielanderson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean suffers alcohol withdrawal in purgatory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delirium Tremens

Dean’s surprised he even lasts three days in purgatory.  The monsters are relentless, and Cas doesn’t last very long with his mojo completely intact.  They have to sleep in shifts, taking turns to stand guard and make sure nothing catches them in a moment of weakness.  Sometimes they’re lucky, and they find a cave or a ditch – someplace they can hide without being found, and they can sleep longer, curled up into each other.  Dean doesn’t even care about the invasion of space; it beats being alone in a place like this.

One week in, and Dean’s sure he would’ve been taken out by now.  A vampire, a werewolf, or even a goddamn wendigo.  Everything has a vengeance here, especially with Cas by his side.  Angels and demons hunt him alike.  And you know, it’s kind of ironic that Dean can put up fight with every rogue monster he comes into contact with, but it’s something all too human that nearly takes him down.

One week in, and Dean wakes up after an awful night of sleep with a splitting headache.  He lets out a loud grown, and immediately, Cas is by his side.

“Dean, are you injured?” he asks, kneeling down on the ground, reaching his hands out, but not touching Dean.

“No, no – I’m fine,” Dean says irritably.  “It’s just a headache; don’t get your panties in a twist.”

Cas heaves a sigh and backs off.  “I’ll just go keep watch again.”

“No,” Dean says, heaving himself up.  “I’m up – let’s get moving.”

Cas looks back at him, a hint of concern in his eyes.  “Are you sure?  Do you feel well enough?”

“Yes,” Dean says firmly.  “I’m fine, Cas.”

But he’s not, and it doesn’t really get any easier.  At first, the other symptoms don’t seem out of the ordinary.  The shakiness doesn’t bother him because well, he’s in purgatory surrounded by the souls of monsters.  He kind of has a right to be shaky and nervous.  The feeling of depression, the nightmares, the fatigue – those had all been common before Dean had been sent here.  It’s not much of a difference. 

Dean only starts to take things seriously when he can find no logical explanations for the symptoms that continue to assault him. 

They’ve just found shelter for the night when it happens.  Dean’s walking along the inside of the cave, hands moving over the walls, trying to find his way safely through the darkness.  He stumbles over something on the ground and curses under his breath.

“We need a fire or something,” he says, looking back at Cas’ silhouette.  “I can’t see shit in here.”

“I’ll go look for firewood,” Cas replies.  “You stay here.”

“Wait – you’re not going to leave me alone again - ?” Dean says, a little panicky, but Cas is already gone.

Dean lets out a sigh, and slowly, very carefully, he sinks to the ground.  It’s been two days since he first woke up with that headache, and it’s still there, still beating at his brain underneath everything.  And it’s not just the headache anymore.  His whole body feels achy, and his stomach is churning.  He really doesn’t like the possibility of having the stomach flu in his current situation, so he just continues to ignore everything, breathing deep.  He allows himself to relax, if just for a moment.

It doesn’t last that long, however, because soon enough, Dean becomes worried.  Cas is taking way too long to just search for firewood.  Normally, he’s a lot quicker than this.  Dean’s mind starts to jump to the worst conclusions, and he has to calm himself by arguing that if Cas had gotten into any trouble, he probably would have heard something, and really – Cas is the one with the angel sword after all.  If anything, Cas should be worried about Dean being on his own.  But minutes pass, and Dean’s worry increases until he pushes himself up and ventures back out in the open.

It’s quiet, the only sounds the rustle of leaves in the wind and Dean’s footsteps on the ground.  It irks Dean, increases his anxiety.  Dean’s not sure how far Cas would have gone out to get wood, but he doesn’t see him anywhere in sight, so he continues on, mentally cataloguing his steps so he can find his way back to the cave. 

He’s been out here a good ten minutes before he hears something – an agonizing yell.  Dean only tries to convince himself for a moment that it’s not Cas before he goes tearing in the direction he heard it.  As he gets nearer, he hears a rustle of wings.  He pushes his way through the trees, bursting into a clearing, and that’s when he spots Cas, hunched over, hands pressed firmly to his ribs as he coughs up blood.  There’s a light shining just behind his fingers, and Dean doesn’t even want to think about what that means.

“Cas?”

He falls to the ground, head lolling forward as he continues to cough.

Without hesitation, Dean hurries forward, falling to his knees in front of Cas.  The scene is all too familiar, and Dean’s about ready to vomit.  This can’t be happening.  Not again.  Not to someone else he loves.

“Cas?” he says tentatively.  He reaches out gripping Cas’s shoulders.

“Dean . . .”

His eyes roll back, lids fluttering, and Dean holds him tighter.

“No, no, no – “ he says, starting to hyperventilate.  “Cas, no – you – you can’t do this.  Don’t – don’t leave me.  Cas?”

He slumps forward, and Dean knows he’s absolutely lifeless. 

“Cas?” he asks, voice trembling.  “Cas? No, no – oh, god.”

Dean’s vision blurs with tears, but he can still see as the ground burns around them.  A pair of wings etches into the dirt, branching out from Cas’s body.  Dean closes his eyes, still holding onto Cas’s shoulders.  His head falls forward, and Dean buries his face in Cas’s hair, letting the sobs take over.  Only a few escape before he hears a voice.

“Dean?”

He looks up, heart nearly stopping.  Cas is staring down at him, looking more than a little concerned.  Dean looks away from his face, down at his lap.  Nothing.  Cas is fine.  There’s no wings, no blood, no grace bleeding through his vessel.

“Cas,” he breathes, standing up.  “You’re alive?”

Cas’ eyebrows crease together.  “Dean, I’m fine.  What – what are you doing out here?  I told you to stay in the cave.”

“You were taking too long,” Dean replies, breathless.  “I thought you might have run in trouble so I came out here and then I heard you scream so I came and you were wounded, and then you were dead.  I – I saw the wings - “

“Dead?” Cas asks, and he’s absolutely perplexed.  “Dean, I’m absolutely fine.  Nothing’s happened.  I haven’t run into anything.  I’ve been alone this whole time.  What – are you okay?”

The shadow of Cas’ wings on the ground still burn behind Dean’s eyelids, and he’s having trouble shaking the panic.  He doesn’t know what’s just happened, but he needs to make sure that Cas is really here, really alive and breathing.  He moves forward almost involuntarily, wrapping his arms around Cas’s neck, pulling him into a hug.  Cas hugs him back slowly, almost hesitant.

“I’m okay now,” he says.  “You were _dead_.”

Cas pulls away, staring curiously at Dean.  “Are you okay?” he asks again.  “Did _you_ run into anything?”

Dean shakes his head.  “I’m fine.”

“Dean, we shouldn’t take hallucinations lightly.”

Dean starts a little, feeling something rise in his throat.  Whether it’s panic or bile, he’s not sure.  He knows they’re both flashing back to Sam, and then of course Cas himself when he’d taken on the scars.  Dean clears his throat, and then swallows hard.

“It’s probably just this place getting to me.”

Cas nods, keeping a hand on Dean’s arm.  Dean knows he isn’t convinced, but really they’ve got more important things to worry about than Dean’s mental state.  They’re trapped in purgatory for Christ’s sake.  Staying alive should be their first priority.

Cas says nothing more as they collect firewood together and bring it back to the cave, but Dean knows that Cas is watching over him carefully now.  Dean tries to calm himself a little, tries not be so jumpy and to not look over his shoulder every few minutes to make sure Cas is still there.  He fails miserably.

When it comes time for them to go to sleep, Dean forces himself to give Cas some space.  He hopes that whatever happened earlier, the memory stops haunting him soon.  He can’t let a distraction like that get in the way of him watching out for himself.  Cas knows what he’s doing, and he can handle himself just fine – Dean knows that.  Dean closes his eyes, letting sleep drain his worry away.

In what he deems the morning, Dean wakes up to find Cas tending to the fire.  There’s still a little aftershock of panic, but Dean pushes it out of his mind and sits up.

“You’re up,” Cas remarks.  “I think we should find some food today.  I’m not sure that I’m in much need of it yet, but I assume you are.”

Dean yawns and rubs a hand over his face in reply.  Hunger is different in purgatory.  Dean won’t die if he goes without food, but it still seems to be a sense of fuel.  He needs it for energy.  However, he doesn’t know how well food’s going to go over at this point, but he’d better try for Cas’ sake at least.

They stay together this time, careful and cautious as they hunt for something.  Thanks to Cas’ extensive knowledge of the universe, he knows what kinds of plants are edible and what aren’t.  Dean’s not sure he’s ready to try any meat just yet, and thankfully, Cas doesn’t bring it up.

However, by the time they make it back to the cave, Dean’s appetite has still not resurfaced.  In fact, the thought of eating only increases the nausea.  As Cas restarts the fire, Dean takes a seat on the ground, turning a leaf over in his hand.  He’s weak, he knows – he needs to eat, but the thought of anything – leaves, burgers, even pie, it doesn’t settle well.

“Dean?”

Cas is watching him, eyeing the look on his face. 

“I know you might not like the idea of eating any of this, but you need your strength.”

Dean sighs.  “I know everything’s different here, but I’m not hungry.  I don’t want to eat.”

“You need to,” Cas urges.

Dean doesn’t to say that he feels like he might be sick.  Cas is already acting like a mother hen enough, so with a heavy breath, Dean forces himself to eat what they’ve racked up.  He only gets through about a fifth of everything before he has to push the rest away.  Yeah – eating was definitely a bad idea. 

Dean shoves his head between his knees, breathing deep.  After a minute or so, he lifts his head back up to see Cas watching him.  Smiling weakly, he says, “Guess I’m not used to the delicacies here.”

Cas frowns.  This isn’t the first time Dean’s eaten here, they both know that.  The first time was on their third day, and he was just fine.  That’s when they discovered that Dean only needed to eat as a way to sort of recharge himself.  There’s no way anything Cas picks out should give him ill effect. 

Dean positions his head between his knees again, staring into the fire.  Something’s wrong, he’s started to realize.  With the headaches, the nausea, the hallucinations.  Something’s wrong, and Dean’s scared to find out what.

For awhile, the two of them sit in silence – Cas feeding the fire, and Dean trying to quell the nausea.  The quiet helps him to relax, and Dean hopes that everything will blow over soon enough.  And almost as if on cue, as soon as that thought crosses Dean’s mind, his headache grows worse, taking on a sharper pain.  Dean closes his eyes tightly, fighting a groan.  After a few seconds, he sits up straighter, determined to ignore it – that’s a huge mistake. 

Dean’s vision blurs around the edges, and then goes black.  He feels himself fall backward, smacking his head on the ground.  And then it’s as if the lights start flickering on and off.  Dean sees flashes the ground, a tan trenchcoat, fire.  Pain bursts behind his eyes and around his shoulders and collarbone in the same rhythm. 

At last, everything stops, the world fading back to him.  He blinks, realizing he’s lying on the ground, and very carefully he pushes himself up.  Cas is standing over him, looking extremely worried.  Dean’s head is spinning violently, the world tipping, and then he’s leaning to the side, throwing up what little there is in his stomach.

_“Dean!”_

Cas gets down on his knees, putting a protective hand on Dean’s back as he waits for him to stop retching.  Eventually Dean sits up, leaning heavily against Cas, burying his face in the fabric of his trenchcoat.  He reaches up, fisting one of the lapels in his shaking hand.

“Dean?”

“What happened?” Dean asks, voice raspy.  “I sat up, and then – and then it was like I couldn’t see – I – “

“You were convulsing,” Cas says, voice laced with ill-disguised panic.

“What – you mean like – like I had a seizure?” Dean asks, and his head seems to throb in reply.

Now, he’s completely lost.  He doesn’t understand what’s happening, why his body seems to be falling apart.  The last time he was sick was maybe a year ago, and that was just a chest cold.   He lifts his head up slowly, and as if taking that as some sort of gesture, Cas grazes his fingers over Dean’s cheek.

“Your body temperature,” Cas says, frowning.  “Dean, it’s much higher than it should be.”

“Great,” Dean mutters.  “So I managed to catch some freaky monster bug.”

Castiel purses his lips.  “I doubt that,” he says quietly.  He’s quiet for another second before he says carefully, “Dean, how much do you usually drink in a day?”

Dean sighs heavily as everything starts to make sense.  He’s had a seizure before – only one other time in his life.  It was during that year he’d lived with Lisa.  She’d tried to help him ease of alcohol but they did it too quickly.  Dean suffered withdrawals, and it was awful for everyone.

“You think it’s withdrawals?” he asks, looking up at Cas.

“It appears to be,” Cas replies, “and it would be a logical explanation.”

Dean groans.  “Fantastic.  We don’t really have a way of fixing this, do we?”

Cas presses his lips together.  “I can only heal the worst of it,” he says, pushing two fingers to Dean’s forehead.  Immediately, Dean feels some of the tension leave his body, but the nausea and headache are still there.  “I can’t do anymore.  My grace is being drained by this place.”

Dean lets out a groan.

“I’m sorry,” Cas says, rubbing a hand down Dean’s spine, and Dean finds that his touch seems to ease the nausea just a fraction.  “We’ll stay here so you can rest until the withdrawals pass.” 

He helps Dean get comfortable on the ground, shrugging out of his trenchcoat and giving it to Dean as a pillow.  It doesn’t take long for Dean to fall asleep, eager to escape how crappy he feels, but it doesn’t help much.  He has nightmares, and continuously wakes up, drenched in sweat.  Thankfully, Cas is always there to calm him down, help him breathe a little easier and get back to sleep. 

Finally there’s a long stretch where Dean’s sleep is dreamless, but of course that’s when he has to wake up to vomit.  He manages to crawl a few feet to his right before the heaving and coughing starts.  Cas follows, keeping a hand on Dean’s back until he’s finished.  When it’s over, Dean snuggles back into Cas’ side, welcoming his warmth.

As Dean begins to drift off again, Cas rests his hand against Dean’s cheek and finds that his skin his still hot; he’s still got a fever.  As Cas pulls away, a shiver ripples through Dean’s body.

“You’re cold,” Cas says, and it’s not a question.

There’s a rustle of feathers, and Dean cracks an eye open to see the shadow of Cas’s wings around them, shielding them from the chill. 

“Thank you,” he says, closing his eyes again and cuddling even closer to Cas.

“Sleep,” Cas says, almost a command.  “You need to get well again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean mutters.  “I’m working on it.”

After a few more minutes, Dean’s snoring again, sleeping peacefully this time.  Cas smiles as he looks down at him.  It’s probably the most vulnerable and relaxed he’s seen Dean in a long time.  Cas hopes that it can last.  Eventually, Dean _will_ have to wake up, still sick and still stuck in this awful place, but for now he’s okay.  He’s safe, wrapped in Castiel’s wings. 


End file.
